SNC POETRY CENTER’s Community Discussion Hour

SPRING SEMESTER 2016: THURSDAYS 3-4 PM

Join Poetry Center Co-Director Laura Wetherington every Thursday to explore the collection of books, chapbooks, and broadsides. Most community hours will be open-ended, informal explorations of the Poetry Center’s collection. Occasionally, we’ll have read-arounds and discussions about specific poems.

THEMED COMMUNITY HOURS

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February 25th–Read-around of Howl by Allen Ginsberg
Howl first premiered 60 years ago. Help us celebrate this monumental work by performing (or listening to!) the poem.

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March 10th–Discussion of Mg Roberts’s poems
We’ll read and discuss several of Mg Roberts’s poems. Roberts will read during our 3rd annual Poetry Center Celebration on March 25-26.

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March 24th–Discussion of Tyrone Williams’s poems
We’ll read and discuss several of Tyrone Williams’s poems. Williams will read during our 3rd annual Poetry Center Celebration on March 25-26.

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April 7th–Discussion of Lindsay Wilson’s poems
We’ll read and discuss several of Lindsay Willson’s poems. Wilson will read with Writers in the Woods on April 8.

Interview with Roy Scranton on “The Terror of the New”

The Terror of the New: Interview with Roy Scranton

by Carly Courtney

War veteran, journalist, author, and Princeton PhD candidate Roy Scranton has written for the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Rolling Stone, Boston Review, and Theory and Event, and has been interviewed on NPR’s Fresh Air, among other media. His new book, Learning to Die in the Anthropocene: Reflections on the End of a Civilization discusses the importance of learning to face ones mortality when up against the worst enemy humankind has ever faced: climate change.

(available now at  http://www.citylights.com/book/?GCOI=87286100064510 )

Roy Scranton’s essay, “The Terror of the New” was written as a response for a panel titled “Innovative Aesthetic Approaches to the ​ ‘Global War on Terror’” at the 2013 & Now Conference of Innovative Writing & the Literary Arts, in Boulder, Colorado. The panel included Jena Osman, Philip Metres, and Hilary Plum.

 

How did you decide to sequence the many different elements of your essay?

​My essay grew from the insight, present in Stockhausen’s comments about 9/11 and in Don DeLillo’s comments (voiced by Bill Gray) in Mao II, that there is a profound connection between modern art and contemporary terrorism. The organization of the essay was intended to explore that insight, first through Stockhausen and one of his critics, then expanding out through Adorno’s work until we finally arrive at the moment where we can see ourselves addressing the question of “innovation” in art practice.

What do you mean by the Satanic Modernism you reference in your essay, and do you believe it will continue to inspire destruction (to create True art, horrifically compelling) until there is nothing left, or will something stop the cycle of annihilation?

While the modernist ideology of artistic innovation remains potent, it seems too passé where it it not being actively critiqued by contemporary art producers who are more interested on the one hand in recombination, recycling, and recontextualization, and on the other in producing increasingly banal art commodities that come to buyers as if already pre-consumed (Jeff Koons being the most eminent example).​

Have people continued to become more and more aware of (and concerned with) what the government is doing “abroad, to others, and at home, to us” since you began writing your essay?

​The current debate over the acceptance of Syrian refugees might be seen as a symptomatic argument over the repressed memories of our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Americans, much like any other people, are primarily narcissistic in their orientation, and only think seriously about other peoples when they are forced to, usually by violence.

Do you think (if a conservative republican was to be elected president) the increase in censorship in time will lead us back into a Renaissance era of art (not “horrifically compelling,” beautiful but safe, like portraits, etc.)?

​Ever since art developed out of religion into its own sphere of human culture, it has almost always lived on patronage. This was true even during the brief explosion of democratic arts in the West in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. State censorship is not a great worry in the US, because the forces that constrain artistic and literary discourse operate primarily through self-censorship, non-governmental institutional norms (e.g., MFA programs), and market forces.

 

 

Scranton, Roy. “Learning to Die in the Anthropocene, Reflections on the End of a Civilization.”              City Lights Publishers, n.d. Web. 21 Nov. 2015.

Allegiance to Nature: An Interview with SNR Contributor Sadie Shorr-Parks

       Sadie Shorr-Parks piece, “Rat King Coal” was published in the 2015 edition of the Sierra Nevada Review. “Rat King Coal” concerns itself with the author’s allegiance to not only the Appalachian Mountains, but also nature itself in West Virginia. It is a critique of the coal companies in this area that are decimating natureSadieShorrPark Picture and, with their practices, making its inhabitants gravely ill.

      In addition to being published in the 2015 edition of the Sierra Nevada Review, Sadie Shorr-Parks works as a lecturer at West Virginia University where she teaches writing and rhetoric. Her nonfiction has recently appeared in Defunct Magazine and Sierra Nevada Review. Her poetry has appeared in Blueline and Lines + Stars, among others. Her poem “Greys, Counted Carefully” was recently anthologized in the book Gutters and Alleyways (Lucid Moose Press.) Sadie has written book reviews for Iowa Review and Southern Literary Review. She currently lives in Morgantown with her fiancée and her dog.

Tara Tomaino:

When you are sitting down, fingers thumbing through news feeds and to-do- lists, what is you best go to method for focusing on tasks at hand? In other words, when you sit down to write, can you describe your ideal atmosphere and head- space to achieve optimal creative outpour?

Sadie Shorr-Parks:

I think I’m always writing. I have a good memory, so I’ll write when I’m walking my dog or headed to campus. I’ll keep lines in my mind all day, work on them, and then jot everything down when I get home.

But when I’m sitting down to write, I like to be near a window. The view helps so much. The window in my studio looks out on a creek and a wooded hill. There’s even see a chubby groundhog that’s always running around my yard, endearing me.

To get in the right headspace, I usually listen to “Public Service Announcement” by Jay Z before I start writing. But I tend to switch to Bebop once I get going. I don’t like listening to music with lyrics while I write.

TT:

“Rat King Coal” is a place piece as much as it exists in other realms. Can you describe writing about “place” in non-fiction, or really any genre, and perhaps the writer’s allegiance or rebellion against the surroundings they describe in their work?

SSP:

“Rat King Coal” grew from my dueling perceptions of nature as both a savior and danger. Like a lot of people who grew up in cities, I have this Walden-y idea that spending time in the woods will make me a better person. It’s why I moved from Philly to the Appalachian Mountains, I thought it would be healing to be around more trees.

Quickly after I moved to WV (West Virgina), I learned about mountain top removal, a coal mining technique that blows off the peak of a mountain. Obviously, this form of mining is catastrophically bad for the area. The water, air, and soil all become polluted. The houses and schools in the area get coated in coal dust and the residents get pelted with debris called ‘flyrocks.’ Clusters of people near the mining cites are developing tumors. In one area, the rain had the same pH as stomach acid. It’s nightmarish.

So my interactions with nature in Appalachia became more guarded. I was so afraid of my drinking water. I had to recalibrate my thoughts on surroundings. I became afraid, always wondering if there would retribution for decapitating a mountain range. There must be, right? The mountains must be so mad at us, right?

This piece is a critique of the coal companies in West Virginia. I wanted to show the emotional toll mountain top removal has on a population, or at least on me. My allegiance lays with the mountains and its inhabitants, not the coal kings of West Virginia.

In a broader sense. A strong sense of place keeps nonfiction honest. A person doesn’t exist in a vacuum.

TT:

What I enjoy about the “Rat King Coal” is its ability to transcend form. To me, I could see this as not only a piece of short non-fiction, but a poem as well. Would you mind detailing the attention you gave to each section break and why the piece appears on the page as it does?

SSP:

In “Rat King Coal” I wanted to create a clipped, leaping experience for the reader to mimic how thoughts move during fear. Fear feeds on disorientation, and I hoped the section breaks would heighten the sense of the narrator’s thoughts restarting and regressing.

TT:

What element of nature inspires you most in your writing? Aspect of society?

SSP:

I spend all day staring at sky, especially the clouds. Now that I live in the mountains, there are always the best clouds in the sky. I especially like dusk clouds, so smudged and moody. I’m cloud watcher. Clouds are enormous, yet so appealingly flighty and impermanent. They are a constant source of inspiration.

I also write a good deal about 20th century art and artists. I recently finished an essay on Rothko’s color fields, which, like the sky, are vast and atmospheric in their own right. Rothko’s really knock my socks off. I’ve even been knitting some Rothko style blankets right now, big swatches of color.

TT:

How do you represent people in your life through your work? Do you keep the names the same, change them? As a writer, what is your allegiance to the truth in people if you decide to write about them?

SSP:

Writing about a loved one is tricky. I want show my loved ones in a positive light but not wash out their complexities. Writing an essay about a friend feels like the most formal version of talking about them behind their back. I try to approach with a similar level of tact and indulgence.

I try to choose stories that I can tell truthfully without hurting my relationship.

TT:

You are currently and English professor at West Virginia University. Can you tell me how you juggle the dueling responsibilities of being a mentor and focusing on your own writing? What have you gained as a professor? What have you sacrificed?

SSP:

My student’s essays are so playful. They’re young, they value fun, and they don’t feel the need to divorce that from academics. My students remind me how important it is to that approach writing with joy and curiosity. They are just starting out as writers so some of their voices are so unique.

Putting together lectures and lessons plans does take up a lot of my time. But the process feels so similar to writing, with the emphasis on clarity and communication, that I enjoy the practice. I pour myself a coffee and think about the clockwork happening inside of a text and how I can remove the clock face for my students. I’m also teaching myself and brainwashing myself three days a week, on the importance of technique in writing.

TT:

What sort of revision process went into “Rat King Coal”? Can you describe your process for submitting work for publication?

SSP:

The first draft of “Rat King Coal” didn’t have any sections breaks and was quite a bit longer. As I revised, and realized what I was trying to say, the piece took a shorter, more

segmented form. I ended my revision process by scanning essay and making some smaller changes based on meter and rhythm. Sound dictated a lot of my choices in “Rat King Coal.” I love reading this piece out loud.

TT:

Chocolate or Vanilla? Dogs or Cats?

SSP:

Dogs, for sure. I have a dog, Gideon, and he’s one of my best friends. He’s a stray so I don’t know what breed he is. People call him West Virginia Brown Dog, but I don’t know, that doesn’t seem real.

Chocolate. I’m eating chocolate muffin right now and will probably be eating a chocolate cookie later today.

pictaratomainoTara E. Tomaino is a student of poetry at Sierra Nevada College’s low-residency MFA program and the Poetry Editor for the Sierra Nevada Review.  She enjoys spending quality time with her cat and her never ending rolodex of thoughts in Dark City (Asbury Park), NJ.